


Your Biggest Fan

by ArgentLives



Series: Across Every Universe (You are Home) [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Celebrity Crush, Celebrity/Fan AU, F/M, Fluff, Movie Star Iris, lots of blushing barry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Barry Allen has a massive and probably hopeless crush on academy award-winning movie star Iris West, and Iris West is decidedly enamored with The Flash, Central City's resident superhero, and when they meet, they're both just a little (a lot) star-struck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Celebrity Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt celebrity/fan au, in which I couldn't decide who I wanted to be the celebrity and who I wanted to be the fan so I opted to make them both be both!

“Barry. Uh, Barry, you might want to look over there, to the left of the screen. Bottom corner.”

“Not now, Cisco,” Barry hisses, absentmindedly waving a hand in his face to shush him. “I’m busy.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Look, there she is!” he claps his hands together, and his face lights up in excitement. “Oh my God, she looks so beautiful. I mean, not that she doesn’t always look beautiful, but look at that  _dress_ , Cisco! How can someone be so pretty and so talented all at once? If she doesn’t win tonight I swear I—”

“ _Dude_. I get that you’re completely smitten with this actress and all and honestly I can see why, but you need to shut up and listen to me right now because Snart and his evil buddies are literally  _right there_.”

Cisco stomps over to the TV in frustration and jabs a finger towards the bottom corner, towards a group of people standing in the crowd, looking fairly conspicuous with their bulky jackets and the weapons peeking out from underneath.

Barry squints at the screen, and sure enough, it’s them. He throws his hands up in exasperation. Of all the times they could have chosen to show up again, they picked now? Seriously?

“You have got to be kidding me. How the hell did they even get through security? That place has to have security, right?”

“My guess is that it has something to do with the fact that they all have very dangerous weapons that I’m sure can be used as a pretty effective means of manipulation. Or convincing, or whatever. But anyway—why are you still here? What are you waiting for?”

“Right,” Barry sighs, throwing one last mournful glance towards the TV, where Iris West, his favorite actress (and probably the biggest crush he’s ever had) is still being interviewed, and a second later he’s blasting out the door.

By the time he gets there, Cold is holding open a bag, goading the well-dressed and accessorized celebrities to give up their expensive trinkets, as well as any money they have on them, and Rory and is waving his gun around menacingly, keeping everyone scared and subdued, and the other Snart, Lisa, is pointing her gun at some of the nominees.

“Why don’t I just turn you all into gold instead? Then it won’t matter who goes home with one of those glittery little statues tonight—you’ll all be awards yourselves,” she laughs, delighted at own joke. Barry rolls his eyes. It was bad enough having one Snart who was obsessed with making bad puns—now he has to put up with two.

He rounds them all up and drops them off one by one in some remote and far-away place, somewhere he’s sure they won’t be finding their way back from any time soon. He doesn’t have the time or the energy to deal with them properly right now.

He stops back at the Awards Ceremony to make sure everything is under control one last time, to return the bag of money and jewelry that had been collected and stolen, and to make sure no one is hurt. And also to get a glimpse of a certain celebrity firsthand, if he’s being honest. Everyone seems fine, just shaken up—and then he spots her. She’s standing all alone, looking fairly rattled but otherwise unharmed, and for once she’s not being swarmed by paparazzi and reporters. An idea suddenly strikes him—one he’s not entirely proud of, but this is his only chance. He’s so, so close…he can’t just pass this opportunity up.

So he glances left and right before he sweeps her off her feet and carries her to the rooftop of a nearby building before she even has time to look surprised, and then he deposits her across from him, keeping a good distance between them, all in the time it takes her to blink.

“Barry? Are you there?” Cisco’s voice fills his ear as soon as he stops moving.

“Yeah, Cisco. Everything’s okay. They’re all taken care of. I, uh, I gotta go.”

Before Cisco can even respond, he turns off his earpiece. He doesn’t want his friend to overhear this conversation—the teasing would be relentless if he did. It’s already enough he’ll be embarrassing himself beyond belief; he doesn’t need the constant reminder from someone else. He glances towards his flustered guest, sucking in a deep breath.

She’s even more beautiful in person, if that’s even possible. He honestly didn’t think that could ever be possible, because he’s seen everything she’s been in, and he’s watched every interview, and she’s always so fucking beautiful but now she’s standing here across from him,  _in the flesh_ , and he’s honestly trying hard not to pass out.  _W-o-w._

“Oh my God. You’re…you’re…I…” she stutters, shaking her head in amazement. 

Her eyes are huge as she looks him up and down, mouth hanging open in a startled little ‘o’ of surprise, and he mistakes the expression on her face for fear. He holds up his hands and takes a tentative step toward her, desperate to show her that he means no harm. 

“Hi. Um, I’m sorry to bring you here, but I promise I’ll have you back in no time, before the ceremony starts and stuff, it’s just—I’m a huge fan of your work. Like, your acting is amazing and all of the charity work you do is amazing and you’re amazing and—” he cuts himself off before he can start to ramble further—because he could honestly ramble all day—and takes a deep breath to steady himself. Except it’s  _really_   _hard_  to be calm about anything when he’s standing less than ten feet away from  _Iris fucking West_.

“Uh, what I’m trying to say is…can I have your autograph?” he asks nervously, silently cringing the second the request leaves his mouth. She regards him with wide eyes for a moment before bursting out into laughter, and at first he’s so embarrassed he considers running away right then and there and not looking back, putting as much distance as he possibly can between them. But he’s a big enough adult to admit to himself that he’s willing to sacrifice his dignity for this. He  _really_ wants that autograph.

She wipes at her eyes and grins at him, and his stomach clenches with dread and anticipation, afraid of what she might say, or that she’ll make fun of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” she says, and Barry is hit with relief that’s almost immediately replaced with confusion. She hastens to explain. “It’s just…I was actually about to ask you the same thing.”

“Oh,” he blinks, taken aback. “Um. Really? Why?”

She laughs again, only this time it’s more out of disbelief than anything. “’ _Why?’_ Are you serious? You’re a real-life  _superhero_. You’ve saved so many people. I’ve been following everything in the news since the moment you popped up and started making this city a safer place, you know, I even have a blog about y—I mean, forget I just said that last part. But yeah, you’re like…an inspiration.”

Her eyes light up when she talks about him the same way his do when he’s gushing about her, and he honestly can’t even believe that this is real, that this is happening right now. His inspiration thinks he’s inspirational? His face is starting to hurt from how big he’s smiling.

“Oh, wow, thanks. That means a lot, to hear you say that.” And it does—he can’t remember the last time he’s felt so touched. “I guess we could do a trade off then? Uh, do you have a pen?”

She bites her lip and rummages through her little purse for a moment, coming up empty. “Nope,” she says, making a little popping noise on the ‘p’. “Do you?”

He raises an eyebrow at her, gesturing to himself, to his skin-tight suit. “Does it really look like I have anywhere to put a pen in this thing?”

She grins sheepishly at him. “Okay, sorry. Stupid question. So I’m guessing no paper either, then…?”

He shakes his head no, but then he remembers that he has the convenient little advantage of super-speed, and a city is full of people with pens and paper. He raises a finger as the idea occurs to him. “Wait right here,” he says, as though there’s anywhere she could go in the first place. He’s back two seconds later, and he hands her the pen he’s just plucked from an innocent reporter’s hand, silently vowing to return it later as he rips the piece of paper he’s found in half and gives her a piece.

He watches her scribble something down and nearly faints when she brings it up to her lips to kiss it, winking it him as she hands it back over, along with the pen.

“Your turn,” she quips, and he can’t stop smiling as he reads her note— _’Thank you for everything you do for this city! Much love, Iris West’_ — and the red mark from her lipstick underneath it. In fact his mind is so clouded with excitement and giddiness, hung up on that little phrase  _‘much love’_ , that he’s honestly not paying much attention when he writes down his name on his piece of paper. And then he’s so distracted by her smile that he doesn’t even look at it before he hands it over to her, doesn’t realize that when he wrote down his name he wrote down  _his name_.  

She squints at the paper, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She looks up at him, then down at the paper again, then back at him. “Um. Who’s Barry Allen…?” 

She watches as his eyes go wide in horror, as he realizes his slip-up much too late, and comprehension slowly dawns in her expression. 

“Oh.  _Oh._ ”

“Oh my God….Oooooh my _Goood_ …I can’t believe I really just….Oh my God, please don’t… _fuck_ , please don’t tell anyone,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“Relax, I won’t. I promise,” she soothes, placating, as she tucks the piece of paper safely away in her purse. He thinks she sounds sincere, and it must be something in her eyes, too, because he trusts her. “But can I just…” she trails off, squinting at him, trying to get a better look at his face. She starts to take small steps toward him, tilting her head at him in curiosity.

Finally, she gets close enough that there’s barely any space left in between them, and he lets her, heart beating so fast he’s afraid it might explode. She reaches a hand up and he realizes what she’s doing, and he could very easily move away in time, but he doesn’t even try. He lets her push his cowl and his mask back and get a good look at his face. She already knows his name, so he figures it doesn’t really make a difference anyway. He ignores the voice in his head—one that sounds unsurprisingly like Caitlin—that’s scolding him for being so irresponsible.

“You’re cute, Barry.” 

She grins at him, and he feels his face redden, feels the words get caught in his throat as he struggles to come up with some clever response, as he wishes he could breathe long enough to tell her how gorgeous she looks too, but his mind is sort of short-circuiting and his thoughts are sort of slipping through his fingers because Iris West, literal movie-star and model material Iris West, thinks that he’s cute. The most beautiful girl in the world thinks that he, Barry Allen, is acceptably attractive. How has he not passed out yet, again?

“You know, we’re allowed to bring a plus one to the after-party tonight. Technically, I still don’t have a plus one,” she muses, filling in the silence as Barry struggles to process what she’s just told him. And then he’s so caught up in trying to wrap his head around the fact that  _the_  Iris West _,_ who must have about million different people willing to lay down at her feet,doesn’t have a plus one, that he doesn’t really catch her drift. When he doesn’t answer right away, she decides she’s got no other choice but to spell it out for him. “I mean, if you’re free, and you’re interested, would you…maybe want to come with me? You know, be my plus one?”

“Interested?” Barry echoes, not daring to believe it. “I’m…yeah, I’m interested. In going with you. With  _you,_  holy shit. Wow, I… _wow,_ ” he breathes, dumbstruck.

Iris nods and grins at him in satisfaction. “Good. I should probably be getting back now, but before I do…”

She stands on her tip-toes to reach his face and plant a kiss on his cheek, grinning at him as she pulls away. He brings a gloved hand up to the spot where her lips touched, pressing his fingers against his cheek and feeling the spot burn pleasantly as a goofy smile spreads across his face. The second after he drops her back off at the ceremony, he races home to find something acceptable to wear later, his heart pounding away in his chest, his cheek still burning underneath her lipstick. He clutches the little piece of paper with her autograph tightly in his hand, careful not to let it slip away. The smile never leaves his face.

 


	2. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested the prompt "i’m yelling to my friend about how attractive this celebrity is and then plot twist you’re the celebrity and in front of me wtf" so I decided to do it as a follow up to the original celebrity/fan au I wrote in which Barry and Iris attend that after party, Barry is his typical awkward, blushing, adorable self, Iris is charmed and Barry is smitten; it doesn't fit the newer prompt perfectly but it's got the same general idea!

“Cisco, she’s amazing. Like. Oh my God.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious, Cisco. She’s sweet, she’s funny, she’s confident, she’s got the nicest laugh and the prettiest smile, she’s fucking stunning, and–”

“Barry, please, I get it. You’ve been telling me all this for the past…” Cisco sighs and checks his watch to figure out how long it’s been since he’d gotten the frantic call from Barry to come over his place _ASAP!!_  to help him figure out something to wear, how long it’s been since _apparently_  his car was too slow and Barry had ended up just swinging by his place, scooping him up as he’d been about to grab his keys, and running with him instead. “Forty-five minutes. You’re gonna be late for this thing if you don’t hurry up, dude. Fastest man alive and you’re gonna be late for your date with the girl of your dreams because you’ve changed, like, fifty times already. How does that make any sense?”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just. Wow, Cisco. You have to see her, like, up close. In person. Did I tell you that I got her autograph?” he gushes as he distractedly pulls shirt number fifty-one over his head. Cisco didn’t even know his friend even  _owned_  this many shirts, considering he only ever wears the same three. “Oh God, and she kissed my cheek, too.”

“Yes, you did tell me that already, multiple times.” Cisco rolls his eyes. “And yes, I can see that, because you still have her lipstick on your face.”

Barry touches his fingers to his cheek, blanching at the red smeared across his skin when he pulls his hand away. “Oh, shit–you’re right. Thanks for reminding me, dude. What would I ever do without you?”

Cisco suppresses a grin as he gives Barry, who’s absentmindedly straightening his tie–a bright red thing with little beakers and equations on it–a slow and exasperated once-over. “Well, clearly you wouldn’t survive out there in the real world, considering you’ve got your shirt on backwards and you’re not wearing any pants.” He can’t hold back his laughter when Barry glances down at himself and blushes nearly as red as his tie.

“Oops. I guess I was a little–”

“–distracted, yeah. I’m aware. You might want to–”

There’s a whoosh and the magazine Cisco is flipping through goes flying, and two seconds later Barry is in front of him, face clean (hair…sort of wet? It takes Cisco a moment to realize that Barry can, in fact, take a shower in less time than it takes him to blink), shirt on the right way and pants that (relatively) match.

“–fix that.”

Barry holds his arms out and raises an eyebrow expectantly. “So? What do you think? Yes, no?”

“I _think_ you were okay fifty outfits ago. But yeah, I like this one.” The shirt is a simple red button down, and the pants are plain and black, but it’s a good look on him. Except… “Lose the tie though. I mean, seriously?”

Barry frowns and looks down at his tie, and then back up at Cisco, pouting, looking remarkably like a kicked puppy.

“But…I love this tie.”

“Suit yourself, man,” Cisco laughs, shaking his head fondly. “Maybe this  _literal movie star_ will appreciate the fact that you’re a massive dork, I don’t know. The world works in mysterious ways.”

This comment earns him the finger, as Barry huffs and narrows his eyes at him. “Well, you’re one to talk. Some of the stories Caitlin’s told me about your first date…I mean, do you really have any room to judge?”

Cisco splutters indignantly and pushes himself off of the couch. “Hey! That’s classified information! I’m gonna have to have a word with her…the traitor…”

Barry snickers at his outrage, but then his eye catches the time on the clock above his TV and he nearly bolts out of the room right where he’s standing.

“Oh my God, I  _am_ going tobe late. Do you need me to drop you back at your place, or…?”

Cisco walks towards him and starts pushing him to the door, making shooing motions with his hands as Barry stops to frown at him questioningly.

“Nah, dude, I’ll be fine. I’ll crash here for a bit, or have Caitlin pick me up. Go have fun, really. And make sure you give me all the details later.” He waggles his eyebrows, and Barry rolls his eyes at him before squeezing his friend’s shoulder gratefully.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he says with feeling. Cisco gives him a hearty thumbs up, and a second later he’s blasting out the door.   

When he gets to the venue he’s supposed to meet her at, there’s a super-intimidating door-man who stares him down–sort of a hard thing to do in itself, considering he’s pretty tall, but the guy is managing it just fine–and asks him for his name. It takes him three tries to say it without stuttering so that the man can actually understand him, and to his immense relief, after flipping through the papers on the clipboard he’s got in his hand, the man gives him a curt nod and steps aside, letting him through. “You’re on the list,” he says, giving Barry an appraising once over, and Barry shuffles past him, well aware that he must be wondering how such a lanky-looking nobody got invited to something like  _this_. His embarrassment doesn’t last long, though, because he spots Iris almost immediately. She’s hanging by the entrance, her back toward him, and he feels a tingle in his skin, a disbelieving flutter in his stomach at the knowledge that she’s waiting for _him_.

He makes his way over to her and taps her shoulder. She spins around to face him, her expression bright and eager, breaking into a smile at the sight of him. He shifts nervously under her gaze as she looks him slowly up and down, but when she meets his eyes she’s beaming in approval. 

“We match.”   

When he finally manages to tear his eyes away from her face–which is really not an easy task–he notices that she’s changed from earlier, wearing a simple but elegant, tight-fitting red dress with a plunging neckline and an open back that leaves him a little light-headed. She’s got on gold hoop earrings and a gold necklace and gold bangles on her wrists, and wouldn’t you know it–her shoes are gold too. It’s hard to miss the theme she’s got going on there. The deliberate color choice leaves a sweet taste in his mouth and a swelling feeling in his chest, and he suddenly doesn’t feel like so much of a dork for wanting to go with red himself because she’d mentioned that it was her favorite color in an interview, like, five months ago. She definitely pulls it off better than he does, though, and he’s totally fine with that.

“Oh–yeah. I guess we kind of do,” he says with a smile of his own, but it quickly fades when he notices her eyeing his tie with interest.

“You don’t, I don’t know, think this is too tacky? Should I take it off?” he asks hastily, flicking the ridiculous thing and making a face, cursing himself for not listening to Cisco.

“No,” she shakes her head and pats it, letting her hand linger on his chest, smiling at the feeling of his impossibly fast heartbeat underneath her fingertips. “Keep the tie. I like it. It’s…endearing.”

He beams at her as she squints to get a closer look at it. Her eyes flicker back up to meet his, and she gives him her sweetest smile, poking him in the chest. “Seriously, I think it’s cute.  _You’re_  cute.”

He lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding and takes in her appearance again, because it’s a lot to take in. “And you’re–I don’t even know if I have the words to say it, really. You look amazing. Not that you don’t always look amazing, but–you look…really good,” he finishes lamely, but Iris looks satisfied. “Oh, and congratulations on your win. I mean, I  _knew_  you would, of course, you really deserved it.” 

She loops her arm around his and starts walking forward, tugging him along with her, smiling at his praise. “Aww, thanks. Come on, let’s go. Party’s already started.”

There’s something about this place that seems oddly familiar, pulling at some corner of his memory, but he can’t quite put a finger on it as he falls into step with Iris, letting her lead the way. That is, until someone offers them both a glass of champagne, and he suddenly remembers precisely where he knows it from.

“Oh, I’ve been here before!” he says before he can stop himself. Iris looks at him curiously, and he hastens to explain. “I mean, knew this place looked familiar. This was–”

“–where you fought the Trickster, right? Stopped, I mean, it really wasn’t much of a fight, you really showed him, and–oh my God. Please, forget I just said that! Oh, God, this is so embarrassing, you must think I’m a stalker or something. I swear I’m not creepy, I just remember reading about it and–”

Once he finally gets past his initial surprise, he breaks out into a grin and cuts her off before she can ramble any further, soothing her worries. “Listen, Iris–I’m pretty sure I’ve seen every movie you’ve ever been in, and I keep up with your interviews too–you know, the whole nine yards. So if you’ve been keeping tabs on my fights, it’s really no big deal. I guess it sort of makes us even.”

“Wow. I–yeah, I guess it does.” Iris lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head ruefully. “Well, I guess now that we’re on the topic of us being huge losers for each other…this wouldn’t be a bad time to mention that I technically run an anonymous blog about you? As the Flash I mean, since I did make it before I knew–”

“ _Wait._  Wait, oh my god, that’s  _you_?”

 

The next few hours pass by in a haze of camera flashes, introductions to people that Barry cannot _believe_  he’s meeting face to face, let alone having conversations with, music, laughter, and noise, noise, noise. For as new and different and overwhelming as everything is, the thought that keeps him most occupied is the fact that Iris’s arm never leaves his–she’s always touching him, clutching his arm or looping hers through his, grabbing his hand and pulling him this way and that, guiding him around the place and keeping him close the whole time. It’s distracting in the best possible sense, and for all of the celebrities she introduces him to, for all of the people behind the scenes and for all of producers and directors, it’s really the only thing he’ll hold onto, in the end.

“So, tell me, Barry Allen,” Iris asks, when they finally get a moment to talk one-on-one, “what does the fastest man alive do when he’s not saving the city?”

“I’m a forensic scientist, actually. Director of the CSI Division at CCPD.”

“Oh, that’s–that’s really cool. My dad used to be a detective there, actually, but he transferred to Starling.” The way she says it is strange, like there’s a story there, and he resolves to ask later. If they get to later. God, he’s really hoping they get to later. Her eyes flick to his tie again, and she flashes him a knowing grin. “So, you’re all into science-y stuff then, huh?”

“Yeah…you could definitely say that. Honestly though, for your own sake, this isn’t a topic you want to get me started on, because I’ll never  _stop_ talking. Trust me, it’s happened before. And it’s embarrassing.”

She laughs and pinches his cheek, and Barry balks at her touch, his face turning a rosy shade of pink. “Oh, stop. It just so happens I have a thing for adorable nerds. And you are definitely the cutest nerd I’ve ever met.”

 

They swap stories for a while, so engrossed in each other that for as many people there are that want to get a word in with big-time award-winner Iris West–and there’s a lot–no one bothers to break up their conversation. During a rare but comfortable silence that falls between them, just as they finish discussing Iris’s coffee addiction– _“At least five cups a day,_ she tells him, _especially when I’m working on set”_ –Iris hums thoughtfully, remembering something that’s been weighing on her mind.

“I’ve been meaning to ask–and you don’t have to answer this, of course, if it’s too personal or something–but…I  _am_  curious. How did it all happen? How did you…you know…become what you are?”

He opens his mouth to respond and snaps it shut just as quickly as someone shuffles by, as another person bumps his shoulder from behind, as he suddenly becomes hyper-aware of the crowd around them, of all the people that could be listening in, like everything’s moving in slow-motion. His gaze sweeps the room, taking in all the cameras, the reporters, the bright lights and laughter and hordes of everyone from A-list celebrities to the paparazzi attempting to force their way in, and he realizes that this really isn’t the time or the place for this kind of conversation. Honestly, Caitlin would be proud.

“Well, I mean, I would love to tell you everything–really, I would, it’s a pretty cool story–but I don’t really think it’s the kind of thing I should be talking about so openly here. Because, you know,” he gestures to the crowds of people around them and then to himself, “secret identity and all.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. You’re totally right–I wasn’t even thinking,” she groans, scrunching her nose up in embarrassment, but when she glances up at him through her eyelashes her eyes are blazing again, and she’s got a playful smirk curling at the corners of her lips. “Lucky for us, though, I’ve got a really cool flat here in in Central that we could go to to talk. Real nice and quiet, really cozy, and it’s got a pool with a  _hot tub_ in it. You know, we could talk…go for a swim…get away from all this noise and all these people. This is nice and all, but I sort of want you all to myself, right now. If you’re okay with that, that is.”

He feels his palms go sweaty and his heartbeat speed up at the insinuation. And the way she’s looking at him right now–God, it’s really hard to think. Barry’s voice is high and strained, his mind going into over-drive, as he struggles to form a coherent response. “I–I’d like that. Sounds really…really nice. Great. I–yeah.” He bites his lip as another thought occurs to him, and because he’s not really thinking straight, he blurts it out before he can stop himself. “But I don’t have a bathing suit.”

She stares at him in surprise for half-a-beat before bursting into laughter, doubling over and clutching her side. Her fits of giggles turn to hiccups as Barry rubs her back awkwardly, carefully averting the questioning gaze the people who are starting to stop and stare. 

“Are you…uh…gonna be okay there?”

After what must be at least a solid thirty seconds, she finally manages to catch her breath, clutching Barry’s arm as she straightens herself up. She’s grinning at him ear-to-ear, her cheeks flushed and dimpled with that beautiful smile of hers, and it takes him a minute to remember the reason behind it in the first place.

He’s about to ask her what was so funny when she takes his tie in her hand and tugs him close, pulling him down towards her as she gets on her tip-toes (which later she will refuse to admit to doing because she’s wearing her tallest heels tonight and she can’t possibly be that short shut up Barry _shut up)_ and kisses him hard. She can hear the clicks and snaps around her as the flash of a camera shines through her closed eyelids, and she knows that people must be taking pictures. Idly, she wonders if she and Barry will make the front page of some stupid celebrity gossip magazine when this gets out tomorrow morning, but then he’s kissing her back, responding with enthusiasm, bringing a hand up to cup the back of her head and pull her closer, and she realizes she doesn’t really care. When she pulls away she can already feel herself smiling, and when she gets a load of the dazed look in his eyes, her grin only grows wider.

A goofy smile spreads across his face, too, and he blinks down at her in awe, because _did_   _Iris West really just kiss him_  and  _oh my God Iris West just kissed him_  and  _this feels so surreal_. “Wha–?”

He’s so endearingly charmed and oblivious that she has no choice but to kiss him again, this time a quick peck on the nose that leaves him cross-eyed. “You really _are_ adorable _,_ Barry Allen.”

 


	3. Ridiculous Rumors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

He leans against the counter, and reads the magazine headline for about the hundredth time, glaring at it and fighting the urge crush the whole stupid thing in his fist. Really, he loves his speed, but right now he sort of wishes the particle accelerator had given him the power to set things on fire with his mind instead, or else shoot laser beams from his eyes, or something. He’s fairly certain he’s fought a meta-human who could to that before, anyway.

“Barry, I’m home!” he hears Iris call out, and then registers the sound of the door being pulled shut behind her. Despite the fact that he’s still trying very hard to bore holes into the useless wad of paper in his hand through sheer force of will, he can’t help the smile that hearing her voice brings to his face. _Home_. This is his home now, and he can’t think of a better way to describe the place he shares with the woman he loves. That is what makes it home, after all, not all the fancy parts of it or the indoor pool or the impressive size, although those things certainly don’t hurt.

“I’m in the kitchen!” he responds, sparing a moment to check on the lasagna he’s got in the oven for them, debating whether or not to stick the stupid magazine in there with it. He turns towards Iris as she enters the room, the click of her heels against tile so welcome and familiar, and decides he has to complain to her first. And then he can burn it.

“What’s wrong?” Iris asks as soon as she sees him standing there, immediately catching on that something’s not right. He has to wonder if the look on his face is really that bad, or if she just knows him that well.

“Have you seen this?” He’s so worked up that he only narrowly restrains himself from shoving it in her face, instead holding it out at arm’s length so that he won’t give into the temptation to rip it to shreds as he gestures to it miserably. Iris blinks at him, startled by the angry flush in his cheeks and the strain in his voice, and then down at the cover of the magazine he’s got clutched in his hand. He watches her eyes widen, a mix between annoyance and surprise dawning in her expression.

There’s a picture of Barry that a paparazzi must have snapped—and how creepy is that, _they had to have been hiding in her fucking bushes or something_ —of him climbing out of a window on the first floor, looking reasonably shady, and then another picture right next to that of him ducking into the shadows. It’s hard to miss, since it’s the front page story, the headline ‘Trouble in Paradise?’ plastered across the cover in big block letters. Underneath it, the caption reads: ‘Get the Inside Scoop: Movie Star Iris West’s boyfriend may not be as innocent as he looks.’ Iris has to bite back a laugh, because _really?_

She knows, of course, that this is Barry sneaking out and into the shadows to change into zip away Flash-style and stop a dangerous criminal or meta-human or save a helpless civilian or ten, because he can’t very well leave from the front door and be seen leaving a trail of lightning in his wake, but of course that’s not what it must look like to prying eyes who have no damn business hiding in her—no, _their—_ backyard and taking pictures.

Iris opens her mouth to say something, torn between amusement and frustration and weariness at the whole situation—not Barry’s fault, of course, it’s those damn paparazzi, the assholes who have never and will never respect her right to keep her personal life private—but Barry beats her to the punch again.

“They think I’m cheating on you!” Barry splutters, waving the magazine around like it’s got a mind of its own, and the clear indignation and disbelief in his expression, like it’s the most utterly absurd and impossible thing to have ever been written, makes something warm flare up in her chest. “No wonder your dad hates me,” he pouts and Iris immediately wants to kiss the unhappy little frown off his face, smooth the angry crease between his eyebrows, so she does just that, stepping into his space in one smooth motion and looping her arms around his waist.

“I’ll talk to him,” she promises, kneading her knuckles lightly against the Barry’s back, trying to ease some of the tension there.

She stays like that for a long moment, just holding him until she can feel the tension start to drain away. When she finally pulls back, leaving some space between them but still keeping her arms locked behind him in a loose but comfortable embrace, he looks considerably calmer, smiling at her with that same adoring expression he always does. And the tabloids think this boy is cheating on her, Jesus _Christ_.

“Hey,” she says, pulling one of her arms free to cup his cheek in her hand, having to lean forward a bit on her toes even with her high heels on. “I know it’s not true, and that’s all that matters, okay? Fuck what they think.”

He nods, still watching her with that soft, searching look like she holds all the answers, and lets out a sigh, melting into her touch. Iris reads his body language easily and meets him halfway for another kiss, gentle and warm, short and sweet: a thank you, a welcome home, and an I love you all in one.

“So how was your day?” he says when they break apart, letting his hands rest on her hips. “Land any big deals? I know you mentioned that that producer wanted to meet with you today.”

“Oh!” Iris claps her hands together in excitement, and suddenly she can’t stop grinning. She can’t believe she’d actually forgotten about it for even a second, so distracted by that stupid magazine. “Well. As a matter of fact, you’ll never guess the movie I got called in to audition for today.”

“Called in? Oooh, that means they already want you for it, right?” He grins back at her, pride shining in his eyes, catching on to Iris’s excitement—her bubbly enthusiasm infectious as always.

“Right. So I pretty much already have the part just—it’s funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“It’s—they want me to play the part of the love interest of Central City’s one and only—” She breaks off and grins ear to ear, poking him once, twice, three times on the chest to punctuate each word. “—beloved—scarlet—speedster.”

Barry’s eyes go wide, a stunned little laugh escaping his lips. “What? No way.”

“Yep,” Iris says, popping the p. Her cheeks are starting to hurt from grinning so much. “They’re making a movie about the Flash. About _you_.”

“I…wow,” Barry blinks, looking completely taken aback, like someone just hit him over the head—but in a good way. “That’s—wow.”

Iris laughs at the dumbfounded expression on his face, and pats his cheek fondly. “Yeah, that’s I said.” Underneath the surprise, she doesn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty in Barry’s eyes, the guilt. She resists the urge to roll her eyes at how ridiculously self-doubting he can be, and instead reminds him, her tone leaving no room for argument, “You deserve it, you know.”

He opens his mouth to protest and looks like he actually might try to disagree for a moment, but before he can Iris shoots him down with a withering glare. He deflates under her gaze, conceding the point to her with a sheepish smile. “You’re too nice to me,” he says instead, laughing when Iris crinkles her nose at him. “So who are they getting to play…me?”

“They haven’t decided yet,” Iris says, just barely restraining herself from bouncing up and down on her feet with excitement. “Auditions are still open.”

Barry frowns and looks down, staring at a spot on the ground, mouth twisting downward like he’s just swallowed something sour. “Wait, so…you’re going to be my love interest…except it won’t really be me…which means you’ll be kissing a guy who’s pretending to be me and—”

“Barry, I’m an actress, this is what we do. You know it doesn’t mean anything.” Iris’s eyes narrow and she crosses her arms over her chest, thoroughly peeved. “I’ve had roles like this before, it’s never bothered you. What gives?”

“It’s just—it feels different, since it’ll be someone taking my place and—”

“Well, who says it has to be that?” she says, expression softening as he explains, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she circles back to the plot she’d been planning to bring up earlier.

He blinks at her, uncomprehending. “What?”

“I mean, auditions are still open. To anyone. Literally anyone, they’re looking for some new talent. You could try out for the part.”

Barry’s mouth hangs open, and it’s a long moment before he remembers to shut it, making an incredulous noise in the back of his throat that sounds suspiciously like choking. “Iris, are you insane?”

“Aww, come on, Bear, it’d be fun! Seriously, I think you should try it! Who else could play you better than you?”

“I already have a job!”

“But—”

“No!”

“Just try? I mean, do you want some random actor person messing up the Flash’s image?”

“Iris,” Barry groans, but before bury his face in his hands Iris captures them in her own, holding them tight.

“Please? For me?” she implores, squeezing his hands and batting her eyelashes at him, fighting to keep the self-satisfied smirk off her face because she knows those are the magic words. And, as always, she’s right.

“Fine,” he huffs, exasperated, but she can tell he’s fighting down a smile too, struggling to keep a straight face, and when she beams at him and throws her arms around his neck, leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek, he finally cracks.

By the time they finally pull apart, the lasagna’s started to burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...?


	4. The Things You Do for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an audition that's not actually shown because I didn't feel like writing it and Iris is a great girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have absolutely zero idea how movie auditions actually work so if this seems totally innacurate it probably is.
> 
> Lmao okay I don't even know where this is going I'm sorry; anyway I plan to write maybe one more chapter of this so it'll probably end up being around 10k since i'm awful at multichapter fics in the first place. Anyway.

By the time Barry makes it to the audition room, he’s more than ready to be back home again, crawling safely under the covers. He’s exhausted—he spent all day sneaking out through the window of his lab, chasing down the weather-controlling meta-human wreaking havoc on the city, and in the end the guy had gotten away anyway—and left him with more than enough crime scenes to process tomorrow at work, he’s sure. Plus the added weight on his shoulders of not knowing where or when Mark Mardon might show up again, and if Cisco’s new piece of technology will actually work if he ever actually does catch him.

And now, instead of some much needed sleep…this. Seriously, the things he does for Iris West—he can’t believe he let her talk him into this. It’s not like he actually thinks he has any chance, or that this really even counts as a real audition, considering his lack of experience and any actual acting resume other than parts here and there in University plays. Iris seems to think it’s a great idea though, seeing what the casting committee thinks of the Flash himself trying out for the part, without actually knowing it’s him.

And Barry? Barry just wants this day to be over with.

It takes everything in him not to turn right back around and speed of the building the second he steps foot in the room once his number is called. He tries hard not to squirm, feeling the stares of the people waiting in the hall around him on his back as he goes, because of course they must recognize him from the papers—the fabulous and famous Iris West’s supposedly not-so-innocent boyfriend. _As if,_ he thinks in disgust, mentally cursing those stupid paparazzi and their stupid assumptions that he can’t even fathom ever being true. The cheating part, that is—he is, in fact, the fabulous and famous Iris West’s boyfriend, which he’s reminded of every morning when he wakes up in their bed, with her wrapped up in his arms. Still, it literally never ceases to amaze him. Every second he’s with her he’s in awe.

“Oh,” the man he assumes must be the director says, clearly surprised to see him there as he makes his way closer to the front, stopping a reasonable distance away from where the man is sitting. He’s definitely seen the guy before, probably at one of those fancy A-list parties Iris took him to. If the look on the guy’s face is anything to go by, he’s pretty much got the same opinion as Barry does about this whole idea already. “Mr. Allen, correct?” He doesn’t wait for Barry to respond, dropping his eyes to the piece of paper in front of him, paying him little attention. “What can I do for you? Are you hear to speak with Miss West? Because I'm afraid she's not in today, the chemistry reads for the top picks aren't until tomorrow,” he adds, expression clearing a bit, like he’s suddenly figured it all out.

"Um, no," Barry says, swallowing nervously as he surveys the room, clenching his fingers into fists to hide the small vibrations that pass through them, nearly crushing the portion of the script he’s supposed to read in his hand. "Actually I—I mean yes, I am here for Iris in a way, but not to see her. I'm...humoring her."

The director looks up from what he’s doing and arches an eyebrow at him, gesturing for him to continue, clearly running low on patience. 

“Well, you see—Iris thought it might be fun if I tried out for her love interest—I mean, the Flash, for the movie. She wouldn't drop it, and I promised to try, so...here I am.” He forces himself to stand a little straighter, and unclasp his hands, meeting the director’s gaze head-on. “She said you could call her if you didn’t believe me to, uh, fit me in for an audition, since I know this is kind of last minute.”

The director surveys him over the tips of his glasses, entirely unimpressed, staring him down until Barry feels a familiar heat start to color his face, his body tense with nerves and, even more than that, embarrassment. He needs to learn to say no to Iris when she asks him something like this—really, _the things he does for love._

Just when he’s sure the director is going to turn him away, or laugh in his face, or both, a defeated sigh breaks through the thick veil of panic that’s settled over Barry’s mind.

“Very well, then,” the director says gesturing for him to approach. “If Miss West requested it, the least we can do is…humor her, as you said.”

 

* * *

 

When Barry trudges through the door later that night to find Iris waiting up for him, reading a book with her legs casually propped up on the coffee table, one look at his face tells her all she needs to know—but she still has to ask.

She shuts her book, placing it on the table. She scoots over a bit to make room for him as he plops down next to her, immediately moving her legs from the coffee table to drape over his, her feet in his lap. “So, how’d it go?”

Barry draws little circles around the bare skin of her ankle, as much of a comforting gesture to him as it is to her. He turns his gaze to the ceiling and scowls, refusing to look her way. “Doesn’t matter,” is his only response, so Iris reluctantly moves her legs in order to skootch closer, until they’re pressed up against each other shoulder-to-shoulder, and lays a comforting hand on his leg.

“Barr, come on…was it really that bad? I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. You’re probably just being too hard on yourself again—I’m sure you did fine.”

“Oh, no, I did fine,” he huffs, indignant, and Iris has to hide a smile at that. She remembers him mentioning that he’d done theater in high school and college, that acting was something he might’ve actually considered pursuing if science and uncovering the impossible didn’t already have his heart. “They told me my acting was pretty good, actually. Which was, in their words, a shame, because, and I quote, ‘I just don’t have the right look for it.’ Too skinny and nerdy looking to be a superhero. To play the Flash. To play _myself_.” He runs a hand down his face before clenching his fingers into fists. “Like, really?”

“Hey…” Iris says, taking one of Barry’s hands in her own, gently prying his fingers free and tangling them with her own. “I’m really sorry. That’s a bullshit reason. It’s there loss, you know. And you’re not too skinny—I like you just the way you are.”

Barry just shrugs, but she can see a little bit of color rising in his cheeks, and she can feel at least some of the tension leave his body as he relaxes into her touch, gently squeezing her hand in return.

“Do you…know who did get it?” she asks, breaking the comfortable silence that’s settled between them, unable to hold back her curiosity.

She feels Barry tense up again next to her, and rubs comforting circles into his palm to get him to relax again. “I don’t think they’ve made their final decision yet,” he finally says, sounding tired, “but I heard a lot of whispers that Eddie Thawne is the top pick for the role.”

"Eddie Thawne?" Iris says with a frown, scrunching her nose up on distaste. “I have to pretend to be in love with Hollywood’s notorious pretty boy?”

"Better not make that face when you think about him," Barry says bitterly, thinking of the guy's stupid perfect smile. "You've got a chemistry read with him tomorrow. They think he's a shoe-in. Got the right look for it and everything, I guess."

Iris just wrinkles her nose again, already picturing the movie playing out in her mind, only with Eddie Thawne attempting to play the part of someone she loves. Really, no one would be able to measure up to the real thing regardless, but—this is especially hard to conceive, given what she’s seen of the industry’s new ‘golden boy’ to grace the acting scene. Just the phrase makes her shudder. “I don't care how pretty he is,” she says with a pout, “I don't want to work with him."

Barry sighs and shakes his head, because really, it's not Thawne's fault. “I talked to him for a bit, actually. He’s not a bad guy, pretty nice and all, he just—he’s the perfect picture of a superhero, I guess. Just what they’re looking for. I'm sure you guys will get along fine.” It sort of pains him to admit it, but it's true, and Iris must sense his despondency in the downturn of his lips, because she shifts over a bit more, until she’s practically sitting in his lap, twisting around a little to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Come on, honey, don't be jealous," she says lightly, half-teasing, half-concerned. She only breaks out the pet names when she either really wants something or is trying to soften him up; Barry totally knows this, but he still can't help cracking a smile every time, and she feels her own smile coming on as she watches him try to hide his. "It doesn't matter who they pick for the part; they're never gonna be as good as the real deal. And that guy? He's mine. And I think he makes a perfect superhero. He _is_ a superhero.”

“You always know the right things to say,” he sighs, giving up on holding back his smile and winding his arms around her. Iris leans back, smiling at the feeling of the solid, comfortable warmth of his chest against her back.

“It’s probably why you love me so much,” she teases, letting her eyelids drift shut, the steady, hummingbird-fast beat of his heart making her limbs feel loose and cozy, his pulse against hers making her drowsy and content.

“That’s definitely not the only reason,” he says with a laugh, and Iris can’t help but smile just a little bit bigger.

 

* * *

 

“By the way,” Barry says later, while they’re lying in bed, absently running his fingers up and down Iris’s arm. “I noticed they didn’t seem to be looking to cast parts for two very important STAR Labs employees that help out with the Flash’s crime-fighting…thing. Wouldn’t be able to do what I do without them, a lot of the time. Or, you know, still be alive, in some cases. They’d be pretty upset if their contributions went unnoticed. _I’d_ be pretty upset, too. You think you could somehow drop a hint to that director?”

“Don’t worry,” Iris mumbles, already half-asleep. “I’ll see the full script tomorrow, and I’ll give my two cents—which for me is actually more like…a lot more than two cents, if we’re talking about opinion value. There’s no way I’m letting them make a movie about the Flash without having a Cisco and a Caitlin in there, too. And not just because we’d never hear the end of it from Cisco.”

“Good,” Barry sighs, letting himself sink back into the mattress. “You’ll probably want to call Cisco in the morning, then. He told me he has _ideas_.”

“Oh, God.” Iris buries her face into her pillow with a groan, swatting Barry’s chest when she feels his body shake with barely-suprressed laughter. 


End file.
